Letting Go
by 1uvakindmom
Summary: Post-2k7 movie. Sometimes the only way to forgive, and to move on, is to let go of what is holding you back. Donatello and Raphael brotherly one-shot.


**Disclaimer: TMNT aren't mine…they belong to Nick.**

**A/N: This is a sequel of sorts to my other one-shot called "Holding On", so reading that first would help, but you don't have to read it for this to make sense. This takes place in the 2k7 movie-verse, a few hours after the movie ends. I'm assuming that Mike and Don were told that Raph was the Nightwatcher by this point. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome! **

The crisp autumn breeze was his only companion as he sat on the apartment building ledge watching the distant scene with introspective brown eyes. It whispered incomprehensibly in his ears and teased at his mask tails so they flew like undulating serpents, frantic to escape captivity. They seemed to be an outward expression of the disquietude he felt inside, a stark contrast to the calm he tried so stoically to portray. For the last two years he had had to fill that role, the part of the leader, the cool and collected backbone of the family while he internally fought a constant battle against his own overwhelming feelings of inadequacy. He was glad Leonardo was home to relieve him of the burden, to take back the position his elder brother was obviously so much better suited for.

Leonardo had returned, and they were a whole family again, fighting as a cohesive unit like the unbreakable bond between tightly fused atoms. When in sync, theirs was a force to be reckoned with. The brothers shared a deep connection and knew each others' battle techniques so well that they could execute their moves without word…just a slight glace or swift quirk of the head and they were fluid together in an intricate dance only they could understand, as if of one body.

Donatello was well aware at that moment that he should feel relieved. He _should_ have been downstairs in April and Casey's apartment with everyone commemorating their victory over the Stone Generals; he _should_ have been listening to Mikey cheer about never having to face hoards of evil children again; he _should _have been watching Leonardo as he sat with a serene, contented smile on his face; he_ should_ have been admonishing Raphael and Casey as they pounded back beers and regaled their own personal war stories like well hardened soldiers; he _should_ have been listening to April chuckling in amusement and seeing the pride on Splinter's face that his sons were together again. Why was he up here alone, still feeling unsettled, like something was unfinished and circling over his head like a vulture awaiting just the right time to swoop down?

He sighed in discontent as the rain began to drizzle down as a fine, tingling mist, spraying erratically in the sharp wind and coating his body like a second skin. He reached over to a small, neatly stacked pyramid of rocks that he had gathered on the roof and set next to him, grasping one in his hand. It was rough and uneven to his calloused fingers, feeling awkward to one used to the smooth wood of his bo or the cool metal of his tools and inventions. He continued to stare thoughtfully into the distance, watching as the dark clouds reflected the cyclic red and blue of the police lights originating from Winters' tower. There was something hypnotic about the display and he had lost track of how long he had sat here observing this as his thoughts wandered, meandering through the forked paths of his labyrinthine mind.

He raised his right arm behind his head and flung the rock across the distance to the adjacent rooftop, hearing it plink into the puddles on it. Subconsciously grabbing another rock, he made to throw it, but hesitated at the last moment. It had been years since he had done this…the last time being…

"The night Leonardo left," he said under his breath, his slight voice being carried away on the wind, a forgotten memory lost to time.

He let the rock go, watching as it sailed through the urban sky, flashing faintly on its wet surface the multiple colors of lights the night time city had to offer. And as predicted, the wind carried it approximately 15 degrees off course, based on his rapid calculation of wind direction and approximate speed. _Plink._

"Something is bothering me," he reasoned out loud to himself in monotone, knowing this used to be his routine when he was younger, the meditative feeling of the repetition of tossing pebbles and calculating the trajectory helping him to sort through difficult situations. Before, it had always been a purposeful thing such as when he couldn't figure out the correct outcome of an equation, or perhaps an escape from Mikey's incessant pranks. However this time, all he knew was that something felt off, like a few pages had been torn from the book between the climax and the epilogue.

He curled his fingers around yet another rock, and was caught completely off guard when he heard the faint skitter of a rock on the neighboring rooftop while his rock was still clenched firmly in his hand. He whipped around, his free hand instinctively making for his bo, ready for anything. He saw a figure leaning against the brick surrounding the door to the roof, its arms crossed. He squinted his eyes against the dark and the drizzle to attempt to make out what or who it possibly was, his free hand deftly encircling the bo and pulling it from his belt. His eyes scanned the roof rapidly, searching for a place to hide. He had to melt into the shadows, to hide before whoever it was saw him clearly.

The figure held its hands up in surrender before stepping into the dim light of the roof. Donatello relaxed slightly when he recognized it as Raphael. He slid his bo back into his belt and turned back around sharply, affixing his gaze onto the milling citizens below and the bumper to bumper traffic amongst the blinking traffic lights.

Raphael made his way over to his genius brother and cleared his throat uneasily. "Uhh…this seat taken, Donnie?" he asked awkwardly, the faint nervousness in his normally brusque voice accentuating his Brooklyn accent farther.

Donatello silently slid over, even though there was obviously plenty of room on the ledge to sit. This did not go unnoticed by the sai wielding brother, but he chose not to comment on it as he took a place next to Donatello. Raphael could sense the animosity radiating off of Donatello in waves, each of them washing over him like the ocean tide. The silence between them was thick and uncomfortable, a scratchy woolen blanket Raphael longed to cast off.

"So…uh…" Raphael rubbed the back of his neck uneasily, desiring to break the silence. "Mikey noticed you left and thought you might be up here. So…the guys sent me to get you."

Donatello's eyes didn't leave the street below, but Raphael noticed them narrowing in anger.

"It had to be _you_, didn't it." Donatello said through gritted teeth. The resentment pouring from his words caught him by surprise.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Raph asked tersely, feeling slighted. His own temper started to flicker as it always did in retaliation. He forced himself choke it down, where it seemed to slide down his throat like a bitter pill. It was no easy feat for him, and he could feel it thrumming in his blood, pounding in his head. But he had personally volunteered to come up here to get Don…he couldn't mess this up.

"It means exactly what I said, Raphael," Donatello said, his words clipped and darkly sarcastic, "or do you need me to put it into more simplistic terminology for your Neanderthal mind to understand?"

Donatello's mind was buzzing, flying into darker corners he would have rather not traversed, as he realized in a sudden epiphany what the missing variable to his equation was: X = Raphael. The more he dwelled on it, clearer it became. He was _furious_ with Raphael. Is this what his brother felt like all the time? The anger boiling beneath the surface, the steam building pressure and threatening to sound like Master Splinter's tea kettle. It was a horrible feeling, twisted and deformed, a restless lion pacing the bank of a raging river as it spied its quarry on the other side.

Raphael breathed in sharply and held it until his lungs screamed in protest at the torture. He was _not_ going to take the bait.

"Are you drunk or something?" Donatello hissed through clenched teeth. Why wouldn't Raph just take the hint and leave him alone? "Here's as monosyllabic as I can make it: _Go away._"

"Away has two syllables, Donnie," Raphael plastered an obviously fake smile on his face, as his own rage kept swelling, wanting to lash back. "And no, I'm not drunk. Splinter being in the same room as me kind of took away the desire…plus I kept thinking about that c..cirr…cirr-something you told me about once…"

"Cirrhosis," Donatello corrected automatically.

"Geez, Donnie, you said that without even really thinkin'," Raphael mused slyly, "you just reacted."

Raph's words were vaguely clicking in Donatello's head…but this sort of covert way of beating around the bush to get to the point was not Raphael's style at all. Raphael was blunt and to the point. What was his game here?

"Some of us do that more than others, _don't we_." Don commented just as vaguely as Raphael had, but emphasizing the last two words harshly to get his meaning across.

"Yah," Raphael nodded, ashamed, but thankful Don was catching on. "Some of us have that tendency. And…it can lead to a lot of…regret."

Donatello's eyed widened in unspoken shock as he turned his gaze to his older brother, who noted the questions swirling in their amber depths.

"I…uh…" Raph's awkwardness returned as he felt his cheeks blazing at the attention. He fumbled for formulate the words he knew he needed to say. "I'm not good with words, Donnie. And…I…know you're mad at me." He next words were spoken with a softness and conviction Donatello hadn't heard come out of Raph's mouth in years. "You have every right to be. My…temper…has made me do some messed up shit. I've been doin' a lot of thinkin' today…"

Donatello snorted derisively. "That's new."

Raph's brow furrowed in frustration, but he brushed it off, finding the more he did it, the easier it came.

"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything," he retorted.

Donatello was aware that this conversation was very difficult for his hot-headed brother who found emotions hard to vocalize, but he needed to hear it.

"You almost _killed _Leo tonight, Raphael," Donatello accused, finding his own dam reaching its limit and threatening to spill over. "You made my life a living hell for two years. You brushed off Mikey like he was an outdated Tessla coil."

Hearing what he already knew was true coming out of Donatello's mouth was worse than humbling for Raphael, even if he wasn't sure of what a Tessla coil was. The shame at his actions was overpowering, filling his whole being until it invaded every cell, bloated and ugly.

"I…I know, Donnie," Raphael had to look away as he spoke sheepishly. "I let the Nightwatcher persona take over…almost to a point where I didn't know where it ended and I began. I was so _mad_ at Leo for not coming back. The only way I knew how to cope was to be mad. To…try to show Leo that we didn't need him; that I could be a hero without him. Him…and I… we've always been at odds."

Donatello nodded indignantly in agreement. "That's an understatement as usual, Raphael. And that doesn't excuse your treatment of Mikey and me."

Donatello's continued resistance to his attempt at making peace was beginning to aggravate the red masked terrapin.

"I _know_, Donnie," he echoed his words from before, but they were strained with exasperation. "Leo and I had a long talk earlier tonight."

"Oh wonderful," Donatello said mockingly, "so now you know how to think _and_ talk. I'm impressed."

"Don," Raph's expression turned as pleading as his pride would allow. "You're not making this easy for me."

Donatello bit his tongue and held back the cutting remarks he wanted to say. "Fine. Continue."

"We came to a sorta understandin'…and I came to some conclusions," Raphael rambled. He racked his brain for a way to put it what he wanted to say in terms that would appeal to Don, to assist in getting his point across. Appealing to Don's intellect was sure to lower his brandished quills somewhat. Raphael looked across the city when inspiration struck, stunned that his mind had even come up with it. He motioned to the police lights in the distance, and Donatello's gaze followed.

"Leo and I realized some stuff," Raphael began. "See those cop lights? Red and blue, circlin' around, kinda like me and Leo…y'know, cuz he wears blue and I wear red, and cops fight for justice like we do. But Don…watch when the lights meet. Whadda you see?"

Donatello scrutinized the lights, his brain instantly ablaze with thought, trying to decode what Raphael was saying. He stared at them for a few moments, and then he saw it. For a brief moment when the lights swirled, they would meet, the red and blue combining to make…

"Purple?" Donatello whispered.

"Yep," Raphael cracked his first genuine grin since coming on the roof. "You cannot have red and blue without purple getting in there somewhere, keeping the peace. You…dealt with a lot, Donnie. Leo admitted he was bein' selfish stayin' away…I was bein' selfish stayin' away…I guess Leo and I have more in common than either of us would ever want to admit to each other," He let out a short, dry chuckle at the irony. "So…um…to get to the reason I came up here…well…to be frank, I treated you like shit…and um…I'm sorry. I'm…going to be working with Master Splinter on meditatin' and stuff…to work on my temper."

Donatello's expression softened and he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you, Raph. I needed to hear that."

Raph smiled lopsidedly. "And I needed to say it…so we're even?"

Donatello nodded, feeling lighter than he had in years.

"I must say, Raphael, that analogy with the police lights is not something I would ever expect to come out of you," Don commented, grinning playfully.

Raphael shrugged, "Well, bro, I guess there's a lot about me you don't know."

"Well, let's make the time? Could your Nightwatcher bike use a tune up? I have some excellent upgrades to the motor I've been dying to try…I was going to use it in Mike's van, but a motorcycle would be a lot more fun…"

"I've decided to give up the Nightwatcher gig…but that doesn't mean I'll give up the bike…I'm gonna take you up on the offer, Donnie. Sounds great." Raphael felt just as elated as Donatello. "I'd give ya a hug, but I'm not into that touchy feely stuff…that's Mikey's department."

Donatello waved a dismissive hand, "It's good…neither am I….but speaking of Mikey, if we're all cop lights, where does that leave Mikey?"

Raph scratched his head and pondered it for a moment. He pointed to an extremely intense spotlight coming from one of the clubs downtown. "Hmmm…Mikey is that really overbearing orange spotlight over there; has to be the center of attention, but is always a bright – though sometimes annoying – irreplaceable spot in our lives."

Donatello sniggered in amusement as Raphael stood up. The rain was beginning to come down harder, soaking them and pelting off their bodies like timed shots. He offered his hand out to Don, who grasped it as Raph helped to hoist him to his feet.

Putting his arm around his brother's shoulder, he said, "C'mon, let's head back in. I'm sure by now Casey's three sheets to the wind, and Mike's skateboarding down the stair rails. Good times."

Donatello wordlessly nodded, realizing that he still had the rock in his hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, feeling it bite into his hand. He debated throwing it, but instead let it go, where it bounced a few times and landed a few feet away. Thus forgotten, the rain poured on as the two brothers disappeared into the building.

**A/N: And there we have it! Thoughts?**


End file.
